


Pitch problems

by electronic_elevator



Category: Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Anxiety, Crying, Darkiplier's cold but not malicious, Eric? well. Eric is just trying very hard, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Omorashi, Wetting, Wilford's insensitive but not mean on purpose, legally I think this is a fear wetting, poor bby Eric, they/them Darkiplier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:02:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23823526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electronic_elevator/pseuds/electronic_elevator
Summary: The egos’ TV station wants pitches for new shows. Eric, trying to get closer to his dream of working with animals, worked really hard on an idea, but he got too nervous during his meeting with Darkiplier and Wilford and lost control of his bladder before he could explain it.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	Pitch problems

Eric was nearly wheezing with nervousness as he walked up to the room where he was set to meet Darkiplier and Wilford. 

Since he’d started living with the egos a few months ago, he’d been working at the station, bouncing around to help out anyone who needed it with the skills he’d picked up working for his father. He didn’t enjoy it, but he also didn’t want to be a burden on those he was staying with, so he worked anyway. 

But, a few days ago, they announced that they were looking for some new ideas for programs to host on the channel. Eric thought he could maybe bridge the gap between his current skills and what he would like to be doing: working with animals. He’d dragged together the courage to schedule this meeting for his pitch. 

But he was terrified. He’d prepared as best he could but still his anxiety was through the roof. As he walked, he was tormented by thoughts like “what if I’ve got the time wrong, and I was actually supposed to be there an hour ago?” and “what if I’ve got the _room_ wrong, and I can’t find them to even give my pitch?” or “this won’t work anyway; I tried so hard for no reason” or “what if I do such a bad job with my pitch that they realize I suck at everything I do and fire me, and then I have to leave the manor?” and “if I left the manor, I’d have to go back with my dad, and I can’t do that.” 

Eric forced himself to keep walking through the internal turmoil, all the way to the appointed place. He could see through the glass doors that Wil and Dark were already inside, seemingly chatting. He raised a shaking hand and knocked. 

Dark gestured for him to come in. “Hello, Eric. Are you ready to get started?” 

“Right, uh, right now?” Eric squeaked out. He wasn’t sure how he’d expected it to go, but had hoped he could calm down a bit before he’d had to speak. But, no, that was dumb. It was a one-on-one meeting, so of course he’d be expected to get started right away, and he shouldn’t be wasting their time— “Yeah, I… can do that, if you want,” he managed. 

Dark nodded their approval, so Eric shifted to the front of the small conference room. He felt sweaty and uncomfortable. But he could do it! Probably! He’d practiced! Eric dug out his flash cards from his back pocket. “So, um… yeah, um… I’d wanted t-to talk to you guys about g-getting my own, um, my own segment so that I could, uh, because I want to— I’d like to work with animals,” Eric started. 

“We _know_ that,” Wilford complained, impatient. “Well go on, out with it! What’s your idea?” 

Eric cowed at being rebuked, even though Wilford ultimately seemed interested in his idea. “I’m… sorry.” He felt himself shaking, and was probably as anxious as he’d ever been in his entire life, but swallowed and tried to go on. “Uh, yeah, well… S-so… Since I’ve been working behind the camera with, uh, to help around the station with, uh, other programs and stuff I—“ Eric stopped, seeing a look of what he could only parse as disgust on Darkiplier’s face. “W-what is it?” Eric squeaked out, tearing up. Then he felt it — a warm trickle down his thigh.

“Eric, you’re— pissing yourself,” Dark informed him with equal pity and disgust, right as Eric realized it himself.

Eric stammered in confusion, looking down to see a growing dark stain. He gasped, clutching himself to try to stop the flow, only realizing a moment later that he’d still been holding his flash cards, soaking through them and getting piss onto his hands. 

“I don’t know how we’ll trust him with his own projects if he can’t even hold his piss,” Wilford huffed to Dark.

“I’m sorry,” was all Eric could manage, face nearly on fire. He didn’t know why this was happening, and was trying as hard as he could to stop it, but didn’t seem to have any control over himself. It didn’t stop, piss dripping through his fingers and leaving him feeling disgusting, soaking his pants all the way down to his shoes and leaving a puddle on the floor of the conference room. He’d fucked everything up — it didn’t matter that he wouldn’t get to try out his idea, it didn’t matter that he’d never work up to something he actually wanted to be doing, because he was going to get kicked out, for sure. He sniffled, tears dripping into his puddle.

Dark hadn’t responded to Wilford. “Eric. Go back to your room. Get yourself cleaned up,” they commanded. 

He could still feel little spurts of pee trickling into his underwear every few seconds. “Wh—what about the— the— puddle?” Eric sobbed out without looking up. Surely they’d want him to clean that up before they kicked him onto the streets. At least Dark was being nice enough to let Eric get cleaned up first. Hopefully they’d let him pack his things.

“I’ll have it taken care of.” 

Dark stood, and Eric cowered again, curling even further in on himself. The last spurts had seemingly stopped, but he still hadn’t taken his hands away. Since he’d had no warning before, he was too afraid he’d start again. 

“…I’m not going to hurt you, Eric.” The entity thought for a second, taking in the wreck that was currently Eric. “Let me walk you back to your room.”

“Hmmm, can I come too? It smells like piss in here now,” Wilford asked Dark, crinkling his nose in disgust. He didn’t notice Eric’s blush deepen at his words.

Dark gave him a disapproving look. “No; you should leave, though. But we’ll need to talk later. Come find me in my office in an hour.”

“Fine!” Wilford agreed, making his escape.

“Do I have to— a-are you gonna k-kick me out?” Eric asked Dark, miserable and terrified. 

“What? No.” 

Palpable relief flooded Eric, although he was still thoroughly humiliated and disappointed with himself. “Thank you,” he managed. 

“Come on. …Throw out those index cards,” Dark told him, trying to keep the disgust out of their voice. They turned towards the doorway.

Eric cautiously took his hands away, despairing at his ruined notes before dropping them in the trash as he followed Dark. He winced at the wet thud they made hitting the can.

Dark walked silently, so Eric followed silently, preoccupied anyway with worries that he was dripping on the carpets, that this would be a recurring problem, that Dark would change their mind and kick him out after all… Luckily, no one saw them on the way, sparing him one embarrassment, at least. 

They eventually reached Eric’s room. 

“There. Just go get cleaned up; don’t worry about the conference room. I’ll have that taken care of.” Dark said. 

Eric nodded. He really wished he could ask for help cleaning up. He was a mess physically, and still emotionally distraught; it was going to be difficult to get himself and his prosthetics clean, but he certainly couldn’t ask Dark. Especially not after they’d been so nice. So he just nodded, eyes trained on the ground. 

Dark gave him one more look-over but then nodded back, and left. 

Eric let himself into his room and started the process of getting clean, not least involving a long hot shower. 

———

When he reemerged, there was a black envelope on his desk. Darkiplier, definitely. He opened it quickly, trying not to let his anxious thoughts take hold again. 

“Eric — 

I hope you’re feeling better now. It’s obvious that live presentations do not work well for you. Wilford and I would still review your pitch if you’d like to submit it in writing. Feel free to send it via email.” 

Eric flushed at the insinuation in the letter, but was otherwise thrilled. He hadn’t fucked up his chance! Dark and Wilford were still going to hear him out! He gave a small laugh, sitting down at his desk to draft up the written version.


End file.
